


All gone to Hell (or, Crowley's rather unwanted run-ins with a man from space)

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Not really though, Superwho, Timey-Wimey, not much really happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a noise around the corner that Crowley thinks he recognizes. Which, in itself, is not a strange thing, except that the King of Hell thinks that the last and only time he heard the sound before was back in Scotland, back when he was— wasn’t a demon. And there’s only so much noises you only hear once when you live that long.</p><p>In which Crowley and the (honorary) Winchesters encounter something they've never seen before - but it knows about them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	All gone to Hell (or, Crowley's rather unwanted run-ins with a man from space)

There’s a noise around the corner that Crowley thinks he recognizes. Which, in itself, is not a strange thing, except that the King of Hell thinks that the last and only time he heard the sound before was back in Scotland, back when he was— _wasn’t_ a demon. And there’s only so much noises you only hear once when you live that long. ( _Living_ being a generous definition of Crowley’s actual state of being, of course.) At the same time, he knows that it’s extremely unlikely that it’s the same noise, because he’s pretty sure a party went out at the time to destroy the thing that had _made_ the noise. Although, now that he thinks about it – he isn’t sure if they ever came back. He – or rather, Fergus MacLeod – had been extremely busy with… His last ten years on earth, so to speak.

 By the time Crowley has his attention back on the living world, (again, _living_ being used generously) there is a man standing in front of him. He doesn’t think he’s met him before. The man’s wearing a purple v-neck underneath a black leather jacket. He has bright blue eyes, dark hair, big ears and _no soul_.

He’s also frowning impatiently at Crowley. Who frowns back.

“What do you want?” he asks the soulless man.

“I need to know where I am,” he says.

Crowley’s frown deepens. A _British_ soulless man, well well. That’s not something he encounters every day. “And why do you not know where you are, hm?”

The man’s frown turns angry at once. “Does that matter?”

“Well, I suppose it really doesn’t, except—” Crowley stands up to study the man more properly. He’s a few inches taller than the King of Hell. “You have no soul. But… You have never been to Hell, never made a crossroads deal. And you’re obviously not an angel, mate. So, you see, you’ve made me quite curious. How about we trade?”

 The man ( _man_ being used generously) rolls his eyes. Then there’s a girl coming around the corner, who, when she sees him, beams and joins him. She’s got blonde hair, curious eyes and a beautifully bright soul. She smiles at Crowley, then frowns when the man pulls her back by her denim-clad elbow.

 “Hello, sweetheart,” Crowley says to her, just to spite him.

 He angles himself slightly in front of her. She draws her eyebrows together and the tip of her tongue touches her front teeth. “Doctor, I thought we were going to America!” she says, with an amused lilt in her voice.

 “We were, Rose. In fact,” he replies as he turns around, “we’re going there right now. Back to the TARDIS.”

 She shrugs and turns around. Crowley tilts his head. “Don’t let my accent fool you.” He lays it extra thick on the borrowed voice of his vessel. “You _are_ in America. We have immigrants here as well.” (In a sense, he _is_ an immigrant. From Hell, that is.)

 The girl turns back. “Oh! What are the chances?”

 The man, who she had called Doctor, looks at Crowley with venom in his eyes. He doesn’t seem very soulless to the King of Hell. So what _is_ he? Moreover, what’s he doing with this girl, this _Rose_ , who’s from London, going by her accent?

 “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.” She sticks her hand out to Crowley with a bright smile.

 He gives a small smile back while grabbing the offered hand. She doesn’t seem to notice that it’s not entirely sincere. “Name’s Crowley. Who’s your boyfriend?”

 A short laugh escapes her. “He’s not my boyfriend! He’s the Doctor.” The man in question tightens his lips and crosses his arms.

 “Doctor. Doctor _who_?”

 “Just the Doctor,” he barks. “Come on, Rose. We should go if you want to see anything before the inevitable chaos erupts.” He grasps her elbow again. “Because there always seems to be chaos, wherever I go.”

 She smiles reassuringly at him. The afternoon sun catches in her hair. The Doctor lets her go and starts walking in the direction that she came from, long strides taking him around the corner pretty soon. Rose’s tongue touches her teeth again. “I think I have to go,” she says to Crowley.

 “Can I ask you one thing?”

 “Yeah.”

 He pretends to think for a moment, even fiddling with his tie as he does so. Then he asks, “What is he? The Doctor?”

 “He’s—” She looks up for a moment, as if the answer might come down from the void of the universe – or worse, Heaven. “He’s a good man.” She smiles and then she’s gone as well. Crowley blinks and follows her. Not on foot. He materializes in front of a blue box. A blue _police_ _box_ from the London of the 1950s. He would know; the King of Hell saw them in use. The question is what it is doing here, in the USA in the 21 st century.

 Rose comes around the corner. She stops when she sees Crowley, opens her mouth a little and frowns. “How’d you get here so fast?” she asks.

 Crowley smirks pleasantly. “Why don’t you tell me what you think, love?”

 “Are you an alien?”

 “An alien? Why would you say that?”

 She smiles as if in apology. “’S just that we usually meet those. And – what year is this? – it doesn’t look like humans should be able to teleport just yet. So, logical conclusion, yeah?”

 “I’m not an alien, sorry to disappoint. I’m guessing your boyfriend is?” He points over his shoulder at the police box, which must be where the Doctor had gone. He’d called it ‘the TARDIS’. Rose shrugs. Crowley continues, “And the year is 2013.”

 The door of the police box opens and the man – _alien_ – pokes his head out. “Rose?” He sees Crowley and scowls. “What are _you_ doing here?”

 “Meeting aliens, apparently. Time-travelling aliens in police boxes.” He turns to the alien in question and raises an eyebrow. “Sounds… Absurd. Someone should make a TV show out of that.”

 “ _Rose_.” He ignores Crowley until the girl’s dashed past the King of Hell and disappeared underneath the man’s arm into the box. He tightens his jaw. “Yes, I’m an alien, but you’re no human either.”

 “I’m the King of Hell,” Crowley replies, with that hint of pride that’s always there. (He doesn’t know if he should be able to feel that.)

 The Doctor raises an eyebrow. “You sure look like Hell.”

 Crowley pretends to be insulted. Rose, from inside the police box, shouts “ _Doctor! Are we leaving?_ ” She sounds very far away. The Doctor sends a last glare Crowley’s way and turns. “Yes, we are. Come on, Rose!” He shuts the narrow door. The King of Hell rolls his eyes and transports himself into the box.

 Rose yelps when he materializes in front of her. He waves. The Doctor (and what kind of a name _is_ that) slams something down on the huge control panel that’s in the middle of the room. “Get out!” he barks.

 “That is no way to speak to a king.”

 “He didn’t vote for you,” Rose mumbles, seemingly amused. Then, “You’re a king?”

 “King of Hell,” is all Crowley manages to say before the alien has reached him and is dragging him towards the exit by his shoulder. He wriggles himself loose and smirks at him. “Your box is… Smaller on the outside, mate. I suppose that’s not very surprising, considering you’re an alien…” He frowns. “You haven’t incidentally visited Scotland somewhere in, say, the seventeenth century?”

 “No, I haven’t.” He opens the door. “And it’s none of your concern.” The Doctor shoves Crowley outside and shuts the door in his face. The demon doesn’t try to enter again. 

* * *

The Winchesters let Crowley out of the dungeon for the first time in October. They take him outside of the bunker in December. The former King of Hell is immensely grateful for the cold, crisp winter air of Kansas. (And who would’ve thought that sentence would apply to him, _ever_?) Of course, the brothers (and their fallen angel) (oh, and the prophet) (and let’s not forget the geeky girl who – Crowley has no idea what’s she’s doing there) don’t let him out of their sight.

 They’re taking _a walk_ , all of them. A _walk_. The former King of Hell, a former angel who was once God, the true vessels of two archangels, a Prophet of the Lord, and – no, really, what’s she doing there? Crowley is about to actually ask that, when he hears the sound again. The sound that, apparently, accompanies materializing British police boxes. Right in front of their renegade band. Dean curses loudly and reaches for his weapon, while Sam, seemingly on instinct, angles himself in front of Kevin and Charlie. Crowley can’t see what Castiel, somewhere behind him, is doing, but the fallen angel is undoubtedly not taking his eyes off him, so he stays where he is and waits for the Doctor to come out. (Unless there are more time-travelling police boxes in the universe?)

 It’s not the Doctor. Rose comes first, immediately recoiling at the sight of Dean Winchester’s gun and bumping into the lanky man behind her. The man steps in front of the girl. He’s wearing a long coat, pinstriped suit and he’s got floppy brown hair with sideburns that revel Sam’s. He sticks both hands out at Dean and starts to say something, but Dean himself is quicker.

 “Who the hell are you and _what the hell is that thing_?”

 The man raises his eyebrows at the hunter. “I’m the Doctor, and it’s not nice to call Rose a thing.”

 Rose rolls her eyes. “This is the TARDIS.” She glances at – the Doctor? Crowley feels like he missed something. “But I don’t think he likes it when you call her a thing either.”

 “No, that’s true,” the man says. “Now I would appreciate it if you put the gun down and tell us where we…” His eyes land on Crowley at last. “Well, if it isn’t the King of Hell!” Rose follows his gaze and does that thing with her tongue. A bit of a tic, it would seem.

 Dean tightens his grip on the gun. “How do you know him?”

 “I wouldn’t say I _know_ him,” says the Doctor. “We met once.”

 “If you don’t mind me saying,” Crowley replies, “my memory might be jumbled at the moment, but I’m reasonably sure you didn’t look like that last time we met. Also,” he adds bitterly, “I’m not the King of Hell anymore.”

 “Things change!” Then, to Dean, “Really, could you put the gun away? It’s very distracting to talk with a weapon in my face.”

 Dean takes a quick look at Sam, then at Cas. Both men shrug. Rose casts a nervous glance in Dean’s direction. The man in question purses his lips and lowers his weapon, but doesn’t put it away. He jerks his chin at the Doctor. “What are you doing here?”

 “Sightseeing! What year is it? I was aiming for 2014, great things in 2014.”

 Dean seems too confused to answer, so Crowley says, “It’s still 2013. It’s December, though, so you weren’t far off.”

 “Ah, brilliant! Tell me, is there anything fun to do here? Or anything… Not so fun?” He leans towards Rose, who’s standing next to him, and smiles conspiratorially. “No mysterious disappearances? Lights in the sky? The TARDIS usually brings us somewhere for a reason.”

 “You’re too late for the lights in the sky,” Crowley remarks, which earns him a glare from Dean. 

 The hunter then turns to the Doctor again and asks, “What _is_ that TARDIS thing, anyway?”

 “Hey, hey. Rose told you, she’s not a thing. That’s very rude.” He pats the TARDIS’s blue door. “TARDIS stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. She’s my ship. Well, _my_ ship.” He frowns a bit. “Not technically, she isn’t.”

 Rose laughs, lightly poking the Doctor in his side. “We’re just travelling around a bit, we don’t mean any harm.” As if to prove this, she steps around the Doctor and holds a hand out to Dean. “I’m Rose Tyler.” She smiles brightly and rocks back on her heels. Crowley wishes he could still see her soul, because he thinks it can only have gotten brighter.

 Dean looks at her hand sceptically. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes it instead. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean. These are our friends, Castiel, Kevin and Charlie. And, well, you’ve met Crowley, apparently. He’s, um, sort of our captive, I guess?”

 “The _Winchesters_!” the Doctor exclaims, excited. “Oh, that’s _great_. That’s brilliant!” He takes Sam’s hand in both of his and shakes it enthusiastically. Rose chuckles. Dean widens his eyes in confusion.

 “The _hell_?”

 The Doctor takes Dean’s hand as well, and he’s so confused that he doesn’t even try to yank it back. Then the alien bounds out of his spaceship, past Crowley, and shakes Castiel’s hand as well. The former angel does that insufferable head tilt of his, but doesn’t say anything. The Doctor bounces back to Rose, who seems as perplexed as the rest of them about the man’s antics. “The Winchesters and their angel! And you two, brilliant humans!” He gestures at Charlie and Kevin.

 It’s Sam who asks the question that everyone is thinking of.

“Sorry, but. Have we met? How do you know us?”

The Doctor widens his brown eyes. “You’re quite the phenomenon, Sam. Somewhere in… In the future. Well, _your_ future. I never knew if I could believe all the stories about you lot, but you are just the living, walking proof!” He frowns thinkingly. “2013, eh? That’s – oh, we can take a look. Come inside.”

 “Whoa, whoa.” Dean holds up his hands, one still holding his gun. “Inside? Dude, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s six of us and two of you and that thing can’t be larger than an elevator.” He points at the TARDIS with his gun as he says this.

 Rose smiles widely. “You’d be surprised.” Then she turns around and disappears into the TARDIS. Crowley waits for someone else to move in amusement. Charlie is the first to do so, shrugging and pushing past the Doctor. She halts in the door opening.

 “Oh. My. God.” She turns back around and beams at Dean. “It’s bigger on the inside! Wow, this is some sci-fi stuff come true!”

 “Bigger on the- What?” Dean finally tucks his gun away and steps inside. Crowley listens closely. And sure enough, there it is. “Son of a _bitch_!” It’s muffled by the half-closed door, but still very recognizable. The former King of Hell doesn’t know if he should find it disconcerting that he knew exactly how the elder Winchester was going to react.

 The Doctor smiles a bit. “At least that bit’s true. Come on, everyone, we don’t have forever.” He frowns again. “Well, that depends on how you look at it, of course. Sam, if you please.”

 While Sam appears sceptical, he follows the instruction and follows his brother inside. Crowley feels Castiel give him a nudge in the back. He glances at the ex-angel, who nods towards the TARDIS. Kevin slips in before either of them, the Doctor giving him an enthusiastic smile. When everyone’s inside, gaping at their surroundings, the alien shuts the door and spreads his arms.

 “Welcome!” he says.

 Dean, who is holding on to the console, turns to him. “What the hell is this? How – this is impossible.”

 Sam frowns at him, amused. “Dean, this is not the first time we’ve seen something like this. Remember the angels’ greenroom?”

 Green eyes widen. “Dude. This is a _spaceship_. A. Freaking. Spaceship. Look, it’s even got these—” he gestures around “buttons, and... And stuff. You know, alien-y stuff.”

 “Very well-spotted, professor,” Crowley can’t help but say. “I’m sure the alien is proud of you.”

 “Very!” says the Doctor. He walks past Crowley, Dean, and the console and opens a door next to where Rose is standing with a smile on her face. “Follow me.”

 Everyone follows him through several corridors. Dean looks like he’s having some sort of existential crisis. He keeps touching the walls and making strange faces at Sam and Charlie, alternatively. It’s that Cas isn’t watching him (for once), otherwise the former angel would definitely get a few as well, Crowley thinks. Sam and Charlie just kind of roll their eyes and the former smiles indulgently, a few times. Suddenly, Dean stops. Castiel slams into him. Everyone halts at the noise that two men falling down on a metal floor make. Cas groans. Dean shoves the former angel off himself and sits up.

 “What the hell are we doing?” he barks. Cas looks up at him.

 “We’re following the Doctor somewhere, Dean,” he says, not as patiently as he would have if he were still an angel.

 “Yeah, I know that, Cas! I mean, _why_? We don’t know the guy. He could be leading us straight into a trap for all we know. We don’t even know _what_ he is.”

 “Oh, but that’s very simple,” comes the Doctor’s voice. Dean cranes his neck to look at him. The alien smiles. “I’m a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey.”

 Dean climbs to his feet. Sam shoots him wary look, but the elder Winchester just stares at the Doctor while Rose helps Cas up. “A Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey – see, that’s what I mean. That’s not possible, so what are you, really? A god? Demigod? Trickster? Huh?”

 “I’m a Gallifreyan, Dean. A Time Lord. For you, that makes me an alien. For me, that actually makes you an alien. I’m 900 years old and I have two hearts. You’re on my ship and I haven’t abducted you, and I have absolutely no intention to take you anywhere you don’t want to go, only to the library.”

 “The library?”

 The Doctor smiles. “Yes! Come on!” He throws open a door and gestures for everyone to go inside. They hesitate.

 Crowley thinks maybe they’re considering what Dean said, so he steps in the direction of the door and says, “I do think he’s telling the truth. I know, I’m not trustworthy, blah, blah, blah. Nevertheless, I’m the only one here – besides our dear Kevin, of course – with anything even remotely resembling supernatural powers. I can’t see anyone’s soul anymore, but even if I could, I wouldn’t see the Doctor’s – because he _doesn’t have one_. He’s none of the things you mentioned – everything but demons has something resembling a soul, isn’t that right, Cas?”

 Castiel tilts his head. “That is true.”

 “Well, he doesn’t. So I find it very likely he’s telling the truth and he is, in fact, an alien from the planet—” He turns to the alien in question. “From the planet?”

 “Gallifrey,” says the Doctor. “Thank you.”

 Crowley rolls his eyes and steps past him, into a huge library. He’s overwhelmed for a moment, and that really takes something, even these days. (Or maybe _especially_ these days.) The Doctor, followed closely by Rose, followed closely by Cas, followed closely by Dean ( _very_ closely), walks in after him, smiling widely. The rest follows, less closely.

 The Doctor spreads his arms. “All the books in the universe! Metaphorically speaking, of course. There’s no possible way I could have collected all the books in the universe. However!” He holds up a finger, raising his eyebrows in a mock-conspiratorial look. “What I do have, are the Winchester gospels, otherwise known as _Supernatural_ , by Carver Edlund.” He frowns at the collective groan that escapes the Winchesters and their fallen angel. “What? I really like the film!”

 “The _film_?” Dean echoes. Sam groans even louder. (Crowley thinks that, if they weren’t on an interdimensional spaceship, the Moose would be able to create an earthquake just by making that sound.)

 “Well, films, really. The fifth one is my favourite,” the Doctor replies while he easily climbs up a ladder and retrieves some books from a shelf. He offhandedly throws them over to Rose, who catches the paperbacks without as much as a surprised blink.

 “ _The fifth one_?” (Crowley swears he can feel the floor shake.)

 “Yes, very exciting. A shame it's also the last one.” He jumps down from the ladder and immediately pulls a pair of glasses from his jacket. Putting them on, he says, “Let’s see.”

 “There are _five movies_ about our lives?”

 “And a spinoff TV series, but no one really likes that one. That’s more because of the mindset of that age than the story, I suppose. Rose, did you like the TV series?”

 Rose smiles. “I haven’t actually gotten around to watching it yet. Still on the fourth season of _Sherlock_.”

 “The fourth season of _Sherlock_?” Charlie squeals. “Oh, my god. Can you tell me what happens?”

 “Ah! No spoilers in my TARDIS!” the Doctor warns. Then he blinks at the books. “On second thought – maybe I shouldn’t read those while you’re here. We’re going to mess with the time… Timey-wimey stuff.”

 Rose snorts. “Oh, now he’s worried about the timey-wimey stuff. Really? Timey-wimey stuff?”

 “ _What_?”

 Crowley wants to say that he’s actually really interested in those books – he didn’t know the prophet was still alive, let alone writing. Or maybe Kevin writes the new books, in the future. He smirks at the thought, but then Sam says, “No, you know what, we’re gonna go back to the bunker and pretend this never happened. Hell – I’m not even sure it _is_ really happening. I’d prefer to forget all about it.”

 Dean purses his lips. (Does he even know he _does_ that? It looks ridiculous.) “I agree with you there, Sam. And you.” He points at the Doctor. “If you’re really an alien, you ain’t our territory to hunt, man. If you’re _not_ , we’re gonna kick your ass one day.”

 The Doctor smiles indulgently. “Very well.” He puts his glasses back in his pinstriped jacket. Charlie splutters something about _Sherlock_ , but everyone’s turning around and walking out of the library. Crowley loathes to think about the wisdom that might be stored in there – the wisdom that he’s missing out on, but Castiel gives him an urgent poke in the back and he walks away.

 The odd group say goodbye to each other outside the TARDIS. (That is to say, the Doctor enthusiastically waves goodbye and Rose whispers something in Charlie’s ear that makes her widen her eyes in consternation while the rest stare at them.) The alien appears next to Crowley.

 “Not the King of Hell anymore, hm?”

 “No, I’m not.”

 “Hm.” The alien nods. “Don’t give up, Crowley. I’m sure there’s something in it for you.”

 Rose sidles up next to him, clinging to his suit. “We leaving, Doctor?”

 “Yes!” He claps his hands. “Goodbye, everyone, it was nice meeting you! Maybe we’ll meet again, one day.”

 “I sure as hell hope not,” Dean mutters.

 The Doctor smiles at him, Rose waves, and they disappear into the TARDIS. As it dematerializes, there’s the sound again. And Crowley’s quite sure that he’s never going to forget what that sound means ever again. (He still wonders if the Doctor _was_ actually in Scotland, though…)

* * *

  _Later (also, earlier)_

 “Hello,” says the strange, bow-tied man to the staring woman, “would you mind telling me where I can get this jacket fixed?”

 She points.

 “Thank you, that is awfully nice of you.” He turns around, then turns back to her. “Don’t you think it’s a bit quiet around here?”

 “Everyone’s gone out to investigate the strange noise. The tailor is only still here because he’s a coward,” she says, and hurries back into her home.

 The man smiles. “Thank you. That’s very convenient.” He pulls a thread from his jacket while walking to the tailor’s house. He knew he shouldn’t have tried to teach the toothy books from Fuwefisia table manners. It takes a while for the door to open after he knocks on it.

 “Hello?” says the small man that opened it.

 “Hello. Are you the tailor?”

 The door opens a little further. “Fergus MacLeod, can I help you with anything?”

 He clasps his hands, then spreads them. “My jacket needs patching up.” A mischievous smile appears on the man’s face. “It’s all gone to hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this here, but ah... Still did it? Actually wrote it for Tumblr - also Phyripo there, if anyone's interested.


End file.
